


Sunset

by lost_spook



Category: Miss Marple - Agatha Christie
Genre: Awesome Miss Marple, Gen, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Small details are so often what counts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunset

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Закат](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8352268) by [KP_and_her_fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KP_and_her_fics/pseuds/KP_and_her_fics)



> Written from a prompt (Miss Marple, sunset) from Lizzie_Marie_23 on LJ.

Miss Marple leant forward and peered closely at the newly finished painting of yesterday’s sunset in front of her. “Oh, now that’s very nice, dear.”

Joan pulled a face. “Nice is it exactly. Still, I suppose it might actually sell for a wonder.”

“ _Bourgeois_ sunset in mediocre watercolours?” Raymond suggested from the other side of the room, where he was lounging in a chair, reading. “Depressingly probable.”

Miss Marple shook her head at both of them. “There is one small detail, though.” She pointed to the depiction of a group of trees to the right side of the painting. “That – now, I don’t think that’s right, is it? I’m not _quite_ sure but… Dear me, why wasn’t I paying attention? How careless.”

“Not like you, Aunt Jane,” Raymond said, glancing up from his book.

Joan followed Miss Marple’s finger. “Well, it’s a bird, in one of the trees – isn’t it? Or – no! I think in my original sketch, perhaps it was a little different –”

“So you corrected it to what you thought it must be,” Miss Marple said, and gave a small nod. “Yes. Very likely. People do have a regrettable tendency to see what they think _ought_ to be there and not what actually is there.”

Joan finished rummaging around her papers and fished out the original pencil sketch and handed it over. “There you are, Aunt Jane.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, examining it carefully. “Yes, now, that _is_ interesting, dear. I think that explains everything.”

Joan paused. “I don’t see –”

“Oh, but you did, my dear. A man’s walking stick, I shouldn’t wonder – the hooked part of it, hanging over the tree branch. And then, naturally, when you came to paint it –”

“I turned it into a bird. How funny.”

Miss Marple put the drawing down, and patted Joan’s hand. “Yes, but you caught it with your artist’s eye for detail – and that is _very_ fortunate, my dear.”

“My dear Aunt Jane, the question remains – why the devil should it be a man’s cane and what does it mean?”

Miss Marple tutted at his mocking tone. “Oh, Raymond, if you _would_ be so kind as to go and fetch it down – if it is still there. I _do_ hope it is – well, then, I think perhaps we should let the Sergeant know down at the station.”

“Oh, really, Aunt Jane –”

Joan took his arm. “Well, darling, there is only one way to prove which of us is right or wrong.”

“It’s not terribly serious,” said Miss Marple, “but you never quite know – and I do think he should be stopped sooner rather than later.”

Raymond shrugged. “Touché. I’m off, then. But I’m damned if I see what this is about.”

As he left, Miss Marple turned back to the paint. “Yes,” she said, “attention to detail is, you see, so very important. _Truthful_ attention to detail, I should say. Oh, yes, my dear.”

“And what has this mysterious gentleman done?” Joan enquired.

Miss Marple looked around at her. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly say. Not yet. I could be wrong, and it would be _most_ unkind.”

“For what it’s worth,” said Joan, “I expect you’re right. You usually are, you know.”


End file.
